


everything that drowns me

by kaerstyne



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Bickering, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 23:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17253479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaerstyne/pseuds/kaerstyne
Summary: Having sex with Harle is an ill-advised life choice. Emile keeps doing it anyway.





	everything that drowns me

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! Have some smut 🎊

Emile really needed to stop doing this.

That was why he'd come to Harle's room this time—to tell him they shouldn't do this anymore. That really had been the plan. But then Harle had opened the door and flashed him _that fucking smirk_ , and he couldn't properly remember what had happened after that, except his mouth had been on Harle's and Harle's hands had been on him, and the part of his brain that was capable of making intelligent decisions had shut itself off.

He would have accused Harle of casting some sort of magic on him, but he'd just be lying to himself.

And that was how he'd ended up here, with Harle shoving him hard against the wall and pressing their bodies together. He lowered his head and skimmed his teeth along Emile's bared throat before biting down on the tendon at the base. Emile couldn't hold back a moan, or the little gasps that escaped his mouth as one of Harle's legs shoved between his, Harle's knee brushing against his inner thigh.

Emile grabbed at Harle's shirt with one hand—he wasn't sure if he was trying to pull him closer or push him away, but he felt like he should be doing one of those. Not that it mattered either way, because Harle immediately swatted his hand away and grabbed his wrist, bending the arm behind Emile's back almost painfully. Emile squirmed underneath him, but Harle just leaned more of his weight against him to hold him in place. The asshole was strong when he actually put effort into it.

Perhaps sensing his train of thought, Harle chuckled, his lips still pressed against Emile's neck. "Be a good little prince and stop struggling so much, hmm?"

" _Fuck_ you," Emile hissed. The arm behind his back was really starting to hurt in that position, and his other arm was pretty well pinned between their bodies, making it difficult to do anything with either of them. He could kick with his legs, maybe, but they were partially trapped between Harle's as well, and also he was going to need them both to keep supporting his weight, at this rate. It wasn't like he even _wanted_ to get away, but it would have been nice to have the fucking option.

"Mm, the other way around, I think," Harle murmured, trailing his tongue to the other side of Emile's neck. He bit down there as well, and Emile swallowed a groan. "But you have the right idea."

Emile opened his mouth to say something else, and was cut off by Harle raising his head and covering Emile's mouth with his own, his tongue worming its way between Emile's lips. Emile had kissed people before who tasted sweet, and some who just tasted like wet mouth, but Harle was neither—Harle tasted _cloying_ , like tea someone had poured too much sugar in to hide the fact that it was poisoned. Emile didn't like it at all, but then again there wasn't much about Harle he _did_ like.

And yet, here he was kissing him anyway.

Emile pushed his own tongue back against Harle's half-heartedly, not really trying to push him out but feeling like he ought to make a token effort. Harle laughed again, the sound vibrating in Emile's mouth and also tugging at his groin, because of course his groin was the traitor that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He could feel his cock starting to grow hard and press against Harle's thigh.

Harle felt it, too. "Why, my lord, is that a sword at your belt or are you just happy to—"

"Would you just shut up and get _on_ with it," Emile spat out, and jerked his hips against Harle's for good measure.

"When I feel like it." Harle kissed him again, a lazy, ponderous affair that felt like he was trying to explore every crevice of Emile's mouth with his tongue. He also shifted his leg to push it higher along Emile's inner thigh, and Emile shuddered, dropping his head back to lean on the wall.

Harle hummed a pleased noise into his mouth and _finally_ released his grip on Emile's arm. Emile straightened it and tried to shake some of the lingering pain out, but Harle snatched it again, leaning away just long enough to gather both of Emile's wrists in one hand and pin them against the wall above Emile's head. Emile squirmed against his grip, to no effect whatsoever.

"You know, my dear prince," Harle said conversationally, reaching his free hand down to tug Emile's tunic free of his belt and slide underneath it, "if you really wanted to get free, you could try asking nicely."

"I don't have anything nice to say to the likes of you," Emile growled. Or, tried to growl, but Harle's hand had trailed its way up the skin of his chest and was now circling his nipple, and it was hard to sound intimidating in the face of that. "You're just a—" Harle pinched his nipple, hard. " _Fuck_ —"

"Sorry, did you say something?" Harle's hand moved over to the other side of Emile's chest and began repeating the process there. "I couldn't hear it over all the passionate moaning."

"I am not—" Harle pinched again, and Emile couldn't restrain a gasp. "I am going to run you through with my blade the next chance I get."

"Sure you are." One corner of Harle's mouth curled up into a smile, and that was all the warning Emile got before Harle suddenly released him, flipped him around, and slammed him back into the wall again, face first with his arms still pinned above his head. Harle leaned in to breathe in Emile's ear, pressing his hips against the curve of Emile's ass. "As I recall, you tried that once already. To entertaining results."

Emile bit down a moan, feeling Harle's hard cock prodding him and wishing his own cock would stop rising in response. "I'll—get it next time."

"I doubt it." Harle began unbuckling Emile's belt. "Unless, of course, you mean your _other_ blade. This one here." His hand reached under Emile's waistband and loosely gripped his cock through his underwear, and Emile did _not_ buck his hips into Harle's hand. "I might let you run me through with this one, if you like. If you earn it."

The idea isn't unappealing, actually. Having Harle trapped under _him_ for once, squirming the way he makes Emile squirm, gasping and moaning—

Harle squeezed down on his cock and jerked once, and an undignified sound forced its way past Emile's lips before he could stop it. He tried to wriggle out of Harle's grasp—or further into it?—but only succeeded in rubbing his ass against Harle's cock, while Harle's hand remained irritatingly still. Emile gritted his teeth. "Harle…"

"Yes, my prince?" His tone was light, mocking. Like it always was.

The words came out in a frustrated whine. "Hurry up and _fuck me_ , you absolute _bastard_."

"As you wish." His hand pulled away from Emile's cock, much to Emile's dismay, but then it shoved his pants and underwear down, and he could feel Harle's cock against his ass, with no fabric between them anymore.

"Aren't you going to—do something else first?" Emile gasped out, as he felt Harle's cock lining up with his entrance. He could feel it was wet with something, but he had a horrible suspicion whatever it was wasn't going to be enough.

He felt Harle shrug behind him. "Why would I?" he said, and slammed inside Emile all at once.

Emile _screamed_ , the sound somewhat muffled by the way his face was forced sideways against the wall, but no less intense as it ripped its way out of his throat. His ass felt like it was on fire, stretched painfully around Harle's cock—which, he had to admit, wasn't exactly small. Harle had just enough compassion left in him that he didn't move right away, other than to lean in and nip at the back of Emile's neck with his teeth. Emile took slow, shaky breaths, trying to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

After a few moments, Harle apparently decided it had been long enough, because he pulled most of the way out and then slammed back in again, making Emile cry out. The burn inside of him was intense, enough to scatter what was left of his thoughts and overwhelm his mind with fitful sparks of pain and arousal. 

His cock was so hard it _hurt_ , and he heard himself whimpering. "Harle, please—"

"Please what?" Harle continued thrusting in and out of him, settling into a regular pace that was ever so slightly faster than Emile could comfortably keep up with. Because of course it was.

Emile groaned and arched back against him, which was more pathetic that he liked, but still less pathetic than humping the wall. Which he'd also considered. It took what felt like an eternity before he managed to get his breathing back under something resembling control, and could gasp out, "Please— Touch me—"

"Am I not already?" Harle's fingers skimmed along his waist under his shirt and trailed up his back, nails raking into his skin. "I'm touching you in quite a few places, in fact. Some of them rather deep."

He punctuated the last word with a thrust at a very particular angle, dragging more whimpers out of Emile's mouth and making him see stars. "You— You know _exactly_ what I—"

Harle laughed into his ear, low and breathy. "Oh, I do." His hand trailed back around to Emile's front and traced the line of his hip bone, as if to prove his point. "But it's not nearly as much fun if you don't say it yourself."

"Fucking bastard," was all Emile got out before Harle hit that one angle again and the rest was cut off by a shuddering gasp. It was getting more difficult to string words together, and he wasn't entirely sure Harle would take pity on him and jerk him off anyway if he collapsed into a writhing puddle of incoherency. "Touch my _dick_."

"Good enough, I suppose." Harle's hand slipped down and finally, mercifully, closed around Emile's cock and began to stroke. Emile let himself moan in a truly obscene fashion and rock his hips into Harle's hand; he was beyond caring at this point. He closed his eyes and let the pleasure take over his senses, drowning out everything else in his head in a white haze.

He came with a start, spilling onto the wall in front of him. Harle didn't say anything, but his breath stuttered in Emile's ear when Emile clamped down on him, and Emile had a moment to bask in that small victory before Harle came inside him with a choked-off gasp.

They both stood there for a bit, panting, before Harle straightened, releasing Emile's hands and pulling out of him with a wet noise. Emile's legs suddenly felt like they were made out of jelly, and after a brief internal debate he just slid down to the floor in an undignified heap. Some of his semen had slid down the wall with him and dripped onto the rug, and he felt unreasonably satisfied thinking about how Harle was going to have to clean that later. Take that, stupid asshole.

After entirely too short a time sitting there staring into space, Emile felt something push against his leg. "You know, Your Highness, some of us have other things to do tonight."

He glanced up to find Harle standing over him, nudging him with his foot. The man was somehow perfectly put together, clothing all tidy and not a hair out of place, in contrast to the complete mess that Emile felt like. Emile scowled at him. "Fuck off, Harle."

"I live here, so if anyone fucks off it's going to be you." Harle kicked him again. "And I do in fact have things to do, so I'd rather it happen sooner than later."

Emile glowered at him, but considering he was lying on the floor with no pants on and Harle's semen still trickling from his ass, he doubted it was very impressive. And he'd known perfectly well when he came here that he wouldn't get anything different. So he just sighed and slowly staggered to his feet, yanked his pants back up, and stumbled to the door.

Almost immediately after the door shut behind him, Emile heard the telltale click of the lock sliding into place, leaving him no choice but to drag himself back to his own rooms and hope he didn't run into anyone on the way.

He _really_ needed to stop doing this.


End file.
